"And the sea serpent had three heads!" one sailor was saying, standing on a table. "Three—I counted them. And when I chopped one off, it grew two more."

Other sailors roared in laughter. "You're drunk, you are. Sea serpents with growing heads?"

Across the room, standing over a table topped with scattered mancala pieces, a merchant was patting his ample belly and telling his own tale. "And they say the Queen of Tiranor is so fair, a thousand ships sailed to fetch her the Jewel of Alari, but no jewel is as bright as her eyes."

A dozen more stories were being told around the room. This was the place Issari had sought—a hub of songs, tall tales, and gossip of distant lands.

She approached the bar, handed over a copper coin—it showed her father on one side, the winged bull on the other—and purchased a mug of wine. She winced, expecting a foul drink, but the wine was surprisingly good, as fine as the wine Father sometimes let her drink in the palace. After a few sips to steel her resolve, she turned toward the crowd and spoke in a high, clear voice.

"I have a story!"

Nobody seemed to hear her. The sailor kept speaking of the sprouting heads, the merchant kept extolling the distant queen's beauty, and others gossiped of King Nir-Ur's recent death and the rise of Raem Seran to power.

"They say Raem stabbed his father right in the gut, they do," said one soldier, his cheeks flushed and his eyes watery. "Killed the old man in the gardens, they say. They fought over how to deal with them dragons been cropping up."

The man's friends glowered. "Lower your voice! That's no proper talk." Soon the group was arguing.

Issari stood on tiptoes and raised her voice. "I have a tale of dragons! They say Prince Sena Seran, son of King Raem, is cursed with dragon blood."

At once the tavern silenced.

All eyes turned toward her.

Issari gulped, dizzy at the sudden attention. Praying nobody recognized her—the city folk had only seen her high upon her balcony, clad in finery—she spoke again.

"Prince Sena himself turned into a dragon! King Raem imprisoned him in Aerhein Tower, they say. He's keeping his own son in chains, so the prince can never shapeshift again."

As quickly as the tavern had grown silent, it erupted with new sound. Men pounded on the tables and demanded to know her name, to know where she had heard the news. Others nodded vigorously, saying they had indeed heard whimpers from the tower. Some claimed they had even seen Sena as a blue dragon, flying in the night; they swore they could recognize the prince even in dragon form.

Issari smiled tremulously. The seed was planted.

When she walked along the boardwalk, heading back toward the palace, she already heard the rumor spreading. Sailors, loading their ships, laughed about the Dragon Prince in his tower, awaiting rescue like a damsel. Fisherman whispered to one another, pointing at the distant palace, speaking of the creature the king kept hidden away. Ships sailed out into the open water, carrying the news, a story too scandalous, too horrible, too dangerous not to spread like wildfire.